


it was 4:03 in a world asleep

by slashmania



Series: their love is just so Ludo [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: But he is, Fluff and Crack, I love Ludo, I will not call Arthur "Laundry Boy", Laundry, M/M, flip-flops, no wearing socks with sandals!, two criminals fall in love doing something boring!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:53:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3726079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmania/pseuds/slashmania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At 4:03 Eames runs out of both detergent and quarters as he does laundry, running into Arthur, who wears flip-flops and has surprisingly clean dirty laundry. And its definitely a love story- a perfectly boring, could happen anywhere, love story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it was 4:03 in a world asleep

**Author's Note:**

> A.N- complete crack fic inspired by the Ludo song "Laundry Girl". I just wanted to write something fun before I had to get back to college. If there are errors I will work on fixing them later.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Inception, or Ludo, or their music. It's just a fun song that sounded like it would be fun to pair with Inception.
> 
> This story is also posted on ff.net:  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11178979/1/it-was-4-03-in-a-world-asleep

It was Eames's experience that when you have a job to do and it won't respect the three-day's worth of spare clothing you have brought with you, it's important to find a place to do all the washing. The job was taking longer than expected, so Eames found the nearest laundromat and learned its schedule and found the best times to do that chore.

Eames had decided that today was the best day to do his laundry; it was a Friday and the all-night laundromat on the corner was blissfully free of the mothers folding mountains of clothes while their children ran around and shrieked, free of the homeless people panhandling for money or cigarettes in front of the dryers, or the patrons who stuck close to their respective washers or dryers reading weathered paperbacks or watching the televisions provided for their entertainment. And if the machines worked, anyone with a free quarter to spend could play the standing arcade games in the corner.

He had long since decided that coming in at four in the morning was the best idea because the mothers and children were still in bed and the homeless people hadn't come in yet. Eames wasn't sure what the others were doing at this time of the morning. He could go on and on about how some of those people might be college students or young and distracted working people, the sort that would remember to do their laundry at the worst possible moment; throwing their dirty clothes into laundry baskets or netted draw-string bags and running over with bottles of detergent and crumpled one, five, or ten dollar bills in hand!

Eames was alone in the too warm and fluorescent lit laundromat, wearing his last clean shirt and pushing one of the wheeled carts the facility provided for customer's use. He had gotten most of his clothing through the first washer cycle but had managed to run out of money _and_ washing detergent at the same time. The empty bottle of Tide and his mostly empty pockets mocked him.

He pushed his still unwashed clothes in the cart, occasionally looking over his shoulder at the clothes he had yet to remove from the washer. When he reached the coin machine, he pulled out the only bill he had brought with him. It was a crumpled five dollar bill. And the laws of the universe and laundromats coincided here. That it didn't matter how carefully he tried to flatten the crumpled bill, no matter how convincingly he coached and begged and _pleaded_ with the coin machine, it still spat out his paper money.

It was sad because Eames had been so close to getting most of his clothing into the dryers. He would have had nice dry socks! If he were able to get some more detergent and quarters he could wash the mess in his wheeled cart. He looked sadly at his stained colors, his not-so-pristine whites, and the nice button up shirts that needed a wash and a short amount of time in the dryer to become wrinkle-free and ready to wear. Eames had left the plastic clothes hangers of those shirts hanging on the handy metal rod attached to his wheeled cart just for that purpose…

His sigh was interrupted by his washer finishing its cycle with a loud beeping noise. When he heard that noise, it brought his attention to the person walking through the front door- his heart stopped.

Eames became very still, wishing that he hadn't chosen the wheeled cart that made the annoying squealing noises as he pushed it along. He wanted to come closer, to examine this person in silence- he had to be _sure_.

But there was no denying it. It was _him_.

Arthur had just walked through the doors of the laundromat, his laundry basket balanced against his hip. His hair wasn't styled, he was wearing normal clothes! And when Eames noticed it, he couldn't stop thinking about it because Arthur was wearing flip-flops.

This was amazing.

As Eames was trying to come up with a way to not startle his co-worker into adopting his chilly and professional attitude towards him, the coin machine made an obnoxious whirring noise that was completely unnecessary since he was still holding his crumpled five! But the noise made Arthur look in his direction and freeze. The Point Man's expression went blank for a brief moment and then shifted.

Arthur actually smiled at him! He made his way over, which gave Eames the perfect chance to examine Arthur up close. His clothing was old and obviously well-loved. The man was wearing a band t-shirt, one that Eames didn't recognize, and a pair of beaten up pale blue jeans with a rip on the right knee. Eames couldn't help but look at Arthur's feet as he walked. _Flip-flops_ , Eames's mind was still blown over the sight of them. And then he took a moment to admire Arthur choosing not to wear socks with the ridiculous sandals- who thought that it was a smart idea anyway? He was staring for a second longer than he intended and jerked his head up after Arthur cleared his throat.

"I hope you don't have a foot fetish, Mr. Eames."

"No," he answered slowly, one hand still holding the money rejected by the coin machine, the other gripping the metal frame of the wheeled cart. "I just don't think of you as the type of person to wear flip-flops."

What he didn't say was that the annoying sounds the sandals made when a person walked in them would definitely interfere in Arthur being a ninja during their jobs together. Granted, he probably wouldn't be wearing flip-flops on the job or in the dream on the job. He still wanted to ask about it.

"Why are you wearing flip-flops, Arthur?"

The Point Man shrugged. "I didn't think to bring regular shoes on the job. I wasn't going to come here to do a load of laundry in Italian leather shoes…so, I asked around. I got this," he indicated the basket, "from the corner store before I started working tonight." He pointed to his feet, wiggling his toes for extra emphasis. "I got the stupid flip-flops there as well. I believed that it wouldn't be too embarrassing to go out and do laundry after I was finished looking up that information for Cobb." That it had taken much longer than expected was left unsaid but understood by both.

Eames was distracted by the book that was sitting in Arthur's laundry basket. It made him smile to see the copy of _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ , making Arthur fit into the young distracted working person category of last minute launderers.

Arthur had continued speaking. "This wasn't dry-clean only, so I felt that it might be nice to get out of the warehouse."

Eames nodded and took his eyes off of the book to examine Arthur. He wanted to enjoy this comfortable version of the Point Man, he wanted to talk to him about that book, he wanted to sit down and chat about things that weren't work related. The idea of running into Arthur in such a normal place had its allure- other people wanted to meet others at interesting places or exotic locales. For two dream thieves that met up in foreign exotic lands and in dreams, meeting up in a place as boring and normal as a laundromat was different. Living such an exciting life made him want something a little more natural. He'd been _trying_ to get into an exciting dream thief romance with Arthur for years, but maybe he should have been trying it at the Laundromat.

It made Eames think about what it would be like to meet Arthur in other boring places like grocery stores, public parks, and dentist offices. As he was busy planning out other absurdly pedestrian places for them to run into each other at, Arthur had noticed the money in Eames's hand.

"Having trouble with the coin machine?"

Eames came back to himself enough to nod and smile, liking the way Arthur smiled back and dug into his laundry basket, presenting him with a roll of quarters.

"I'll meet you at the washing machines!" Arthur said before walking off.

Eames was beginning to believe that he was dreaming. He fumbled at his pockets before remembering that he'd already checked them- they were empty of non-crumpled paper money and his totem.

But he didn't care!

He and Arthur stood next to each other as they sorted clothing and put it into their washing machines. Arthur loaned him some detergent so Eames could finish his last few loads of laundry. He also traded his crumpled five for five dollars worth of quarters from Arthur. As Eames was busy putting his other clothing up to dry, Arthur told him a funny story about the look he got from the cashier at the corner store when he bought the flip-flops.

They talked about the book Arthur was reading, what was playing on the laundromat's televisions, and the weather outside which was beginning to look a little stormy.

Thankfully by the time everything was washed, dried, and folded, it hadn't begun to rain yet. It was six o'clock and they walked in the direction of their hotel. The silence they shared was companionable; neither man had made a negative quip or comment and hadn't started an argument (unless the thing with "The Kids in the Hall" actually counted). Eames was content to look over at Arthur, enjoying the fact that he wasn't glaring or frowning in his direction. In fact, from this close, Eames could appreciate the color of Arthur's eyes and the way that the man's hair looked soft, gently curling rather than gelled back.

As they made their way into the hotel, went past the lobby, and paused in the hallway that marked the end of their journey- Eames having to take a left, palming his room key and carrying his laundry in a backpack and his shirts on hangers over one shoulder while Arthur would take a right, lugging around his folded laundry in its basket.

"Well, that was lovely," Eames began to say to Arthur, turning slightly to face him, getting one last look at the Point Man being so unruffled, relaxed, and genuinely pleased to see him.

He got the surprise of his life when he noticed that Arthur had placed his laundry basket on the floor to have his hands free. The Point Man smiled and then cupped Eames's face in his hands to kiss the life out of him. Eames was so shocked that he remained still- he didn't drop his clothes, he didn't shove the other man against the wall to return the kiss like he really wanted. It was over in a moment, and the only thing that Eames could think of was that he was glad they hadn't been in the street…

Arthur pulled away, bright eyed and just a little flushed. "Sorry, I wanted to do that outside but those joggers were staring and I was afraid it would rain on us."

Eames made a noise that might have been agreement. What he _wanted_ to say was: "Arthur, I've found my place in the galaxy. You're better than Febreeze and have the cleanest dirty laundry I've ever seen. Let's stay together and do all sorts of normal stuff like file taxes, do yard work, and watch bad television!"

But he didn't. He had been struck dumb by that whopper of a kiss. He was so debilitated that he could hardly recall what happened to Arthur after he kissed him.

One minute he was there and kissing the life out of him, next minute he was _gone_?

Surely it was nothing. Surely Arthur had picked up his laundry basket and went down the hall to his room.

But Eames still believed that he was dreaming. Was Arthur real? He felt like going back to the front desk and asking the nice man there who smiled at the pair they made, _Was he real or just a dream?_

With nothing else to do, worrying over his perception of reality, Eames did the next best thing.

He went to his room, dropped his clothing, and checked his totem. Reality.

He considered this, thought about it some more, and felt that maybe it was worth sleeping on it.

* * *

Eames woke up later.

He took a shower, dressed in some of his clean clothes, wearing socks that were still warm from the dryer.

Despite having checked his totem, he had suspicions about what happened before he went to bed. He wanted to be certain. He wanted to be sure.

Not willing to waste another minute, Eames left the hotel and headed to the warehouse.

* * *

When he got there he found nothing out of place. Cobb and Ariande were there, but both shared a look of concern from where they were seated before looking over at the Point Man. Arthur was seated at a desk and typing away at his computer. His hair was slicked back and he was frowning slightly at whatever he saw on the screen.

Nothing was out of the ordinary to him. It was when both Cobb and Ariande started pointing to their feet and then looking over at Arthur, that Eames looked down as well.

The Point Man who was wearing one of his nice bespoke suits, not a hair was out of place, had paused in his typing to take a sip of coffee from the mug near to his left hand. Looking down like the others indicated he should, Eames noticed that Arthur was wearing flip-flops. Eames was pleasantly surprised. He made eye contact with Arthur who was still sipping from his mug, and from the way his eyes glinted, Eames was certain that Arthur was smiling at him. That was enough for Eames.

He marched over, waiting for Arthur to put down his mug of coffee and close his laptop before he leaned over the desk and said, slowly and carefully so that there would be no misinterpretations.

"Arthur, I love you," Eames said with a smile, "from my socks to my pocket-T."

"It's okay that you don't like "The Kids in the Hall", Eames." Arthur said reassuringly, before standing up and pulling him into another kiss that had their teammates gaping in response.


End file.
